


The Part That Really Matters

by MarchofBirds



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Loosely Connected Snippets, M/M, No Angst, No underage, Possibly the fluffiest thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 17:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarchofBirds/pseuds/MarchofBirds
Summary: A patchwork quilt of snapshots into Obi-Wan and Anakin's lives- how their relationship changes and develops over the years.





	1. Throw the R Away

 

The first time Obi-Wan noticed Anakin’s peculiar little habit, he was sure he must’ve been imagining it. The boy had only been his Padawan for a little under two standard months, and their training bond was still a small and fragile thing.

Obi-Wan began their training session the same way he had for the last few days, with Anakin diligently reciting the Jedi code before they began their morning meditation. He found it immediately apparent, however, that something was...different.

As the boy began, Obi-Wan noticed his pronunciation didn’t quite have the outer-rim accent he had grown used to hearing from his charge. It was subtle at first, longer vowels, breathier consonants. It almost sounded like a Coruscanti accent but not...quite. More like a very bad impression of one. It was undoubtedly familiar and it wasn’t until he’d about finished that Obi-Wan realized it was eerily close to Quinlan’s mocking approximation of his own accent that his friend would lapse into whenever he wanted to tease him. Obi-Wan frowned, arms crossing over his chest.

“Anakin?” He said sternly, practically glowering down at his student.

“Yes?” The boy blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. It was his genuinely-innocent expression too, not the put-upon one he adopted whenever he was trying to get away with something. Obi-Wan had learned the difference between the two very quickly.

“Didn’t I say it right Master?” He asked, hand coming up to fiddle with his short little Padawan braid as he tended to do whenever he was nervous. His vowels were still all drawn out though, the R all but absent.

“Are you mocking me?”                                                  

“Mocking you? No, why would you say that?” Anakin seemed genuinely perplexed, and his shielding abilities weren’t nearly advanced enough yet to fool the older Jedi. Still though Obi-Wan looked at him for another long moment, one eyebrow raised skeptically, searching for any sign of deception.

“Never mind, forget I said anything,” he answered finally, finding nothing but confusion in the boy’s signature. “You recited it perfectly.”

Perhaps he wasn’t aware he was doing it? They had been spending the majority of their time together, and he doubted Anakin had had much contact with anyone with an inner-core accent while on Tatooine. The habit was bound to fade in time.

“Let’s move on to meditation.” Anakin let out a groan under his breath before responding with a decidedly unenthusiastic “Yes Master.”

 

Obi-Wan smiled to himself as they took their places on the meditation mats. It was actually rather sweet when he thought about it.

After all, imitation _is_ the sincerest form of flattery, or so the saying goes.

 

 


	2. Sky Takes The Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey anybody out there considering going to law school? Don't do it, run away. Unless you enjoy studying dusty old cases for 15 hours a day. Did I choose to spend my like 5 minutes of free time writing this? Yes.

One of the benefits (or drawbacks, depending on who one asked) of taking on a new Padawan was that missions tended to be shorter and markedly less rigorous for the first year or so of the new apprenticeship. Anakin’s road to becoming a Jedi Knight was rather nontraditional in most ways, but in this he was no exception.

Anakin was just shy of eleven and had been at the Temple for nearly two years the first time Obi-Wan was assigned a mission he deemed too dangerous for his young Padawan. He had hoped to put off their separation a while longer as his student seemed to have an unusually- though understandably, given his circumstances- difficult time adjusting to Temple life. It seemed though that even in times of peace, Obi-Wan’s skills were in high demand, or so the council had claimed.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what Anakin’s reaction to being told he’d have to stay behind would be. He wondered if the boy wouldn’t be insulted at the insinuation that he couldn’t handle himself. Or perhaps just frustrated that he’d have to train with other learners his own age, who he’d never bonded with particularly well. Obi-Wan sighed; his Padawan could be terribly unpredictable at times.

He steeled himself for anything but when he delivered the news, Anakin gave little indication that he cared either way. The only visible response he offered, in fact, was a slight frown and an unusually obedient “Yes Master.” The Force, however, told a very different story.

Concern and frustration swirled around the boy in equal measure, his amateur attempts at shielding all but ineffectual in the face of his Master’s experience and Force sensitivity.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, kneeling down to look him in the eye. “I’m sure there will be plenty to keep you busy while I’m gone. It will undoubtedly do you a great service to get a more varied education- I can’t teach you everything after all.”

Anakin frowned in apparent confusion for a long moment, his head tilted to the side as he studied Obi-Wan’s face. “Of course Master— that’s not what I…” he trailed off, looking evermore uncertain.

“What is it Padawan?” Obi-Wan asked gently after a stretch of silence.

“I just…hope you come back okay is all,” Anakin said in a small voice. He was still frowning but his cheeks had reddened and he suddenly seemed very interested in studying his feet.

“Oh,” he blinked in surprise. The idea that Anakin might be worried for _him_ had, somehow, not even crossed his mind. As he processed this new information though, embarrassment began to seep into the boy’s Force signature and quickly harden into anger.

Before it could get any further, Obi-Wan placed his hands on Anakin’s shoulders, centering his attention back on their conversation. Anakin looked up, reluctantly meeting his Master’s gaze. “I’ll be alright Anakin- back before you know it.” He offered a small smile he hoped was comforting.

In an unusually open display of affection, Anakin lurched forward, wrapping his skinny arms around Obi-Wan’s neck. The Knight froze for just a moment before returning the embrace somewhat stiltedly. Qui-Gon may have had a rather unusual methodology when it came to most matters, but he wasn’t any more tactile than any other Jedi and Obi-Wan felt suddenly out of his depth.

“I know,” Anakin said, his voice muffled from how he’d buried his face in Obi-Wan’s robes. “You can handle anything- there’s no one better.”

A warmth unfurled in Obi-Wan’s chest at his words. They were far from the truth of course, but it was nice to know how well his student thought of him. Not knowing what to say, he hugged the boy just a little tighter.

“But,” Anakin pulled away, voice gone abruptly stern. “Be careful. I know how reckless you can be when you’re not watching out for me.”

Obi-Wan was almost tempted to laugh at the sudden turn of events. Being chastised by his own Padawan— and for recklessness no less! But he could feel the concern pouring off of him through their bond, very real and nearly palpable.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised instead, smiling when Anakin seemed to relax, if only minutely.

 

 


	3. Just Because.

“Anakin have you seen my-” Obi-Wan began, coming out of his room into the shared living space of his and Anakin’s apartment. They’d recently returned from a particularly long and tedious mission wherein Obi-Wan had managed to rip not one, not two, but three of his robes. And as possession beyond the bare essentials was forbidden, he was running dangerously low on viable clothing options. He was about to take them to be patched up but had found all three missing from his room.

A curious mystery, until he found his usually-energetic fifteen year old Padawan curled up on their couch with a look of concentration on his face and one of Obi-Wan’s robes clutched in his fingers. The older Knight stopped in his tracks, standing behind the couch blinking in surprise. Carefully but with an obviously practiced hand, Anakin closed up one of the nastier tears on Obi-Wan’s robes.

“Oh!” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice or Force signature, but Anakin didn’t seem to mind, merely humming to acknowledge his Master’s presence.

“I- I didn’t know you could sew,” Obi-Wan said, hovering over Anakin’s shoulder to get a look at his apprentice’s work.

“My mom taught me,” Anakin shrugged. “We couldn’t exactly afford to replace our clothes every time something got damaged. She was always mending anything she could, or taking out my clothes as I got bigger, just trying to make it last a little bit longer.” A sad smile had spread across his face as he spoke. His eyes, though still focused on the fabric in his hands, looked to be a thousand parsecs away.

“I forget how patient you can be when you’re not meditating,” Obi-Wan teased, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Very funny Master,” Anakin deadpanned, glancing up at him just long enough to roll his eyes. Obi-Wan’s ploy had worked though; Anakin’s melancholy had been broken.

“You didn’t have to do that you know,” he said after a momentary silence. Anakin just shrugged again but his cheeks were tinged pink. “I just…thought you’d appreciate it,” he said almost too softly to hear.

Before Obi-Wan could assure him that he did very much appreciate the gesture, Anakin had already forged on, speaking much quicker than before.

“Anyway, it’s no big deal. I find it kind of soothing, actually.” And indeed, when Obi-Wan felt at it through their bond, his signature was remarkably balanced. Much more so than it ever was during any of their meditation sessions.

“Hmm interesting…maybe you should’ve been a tailor,” Obi-Wan said over his shoulder as he headed into the kitchen to prepare their dinner since the matter of his robes had been taken care of.

“And maybe _you_ should’ve been a comedian,” Anakin said dryly, giving Obi-Wan’s shoulder a playful push through the Force.

The Jedi Knight didn’t bother reprimanding him for improper use for once, instead laughing it off.

“Well we can’t all be as multitalented as you, Padawan mine, but I do have a few latent skills here and there.”

 

 


	4. Sometimes it's the Fools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this chapter title, like 90% of all the other ones, is a reference to my fav band. But I have to express my love somewhere.

Even if he were under threat of death, Anakin doubted he’d be able to recall the name of the planet he and Obi-Wan were currently slogging around on. This latest mission was unlike any Anakin had been on so far. In his seventeen years he’d seen a lot but with the galaxy at peace, most of Anakin’s apprenticeship had been spent on diplomatics and small skirmishes. This though, was something else entirely. And at the moment, he swore he couldn’t remember anything beyond blood sweat and mud.

Whatever the name of the planet might be, Anakin had decided he’d never hated another place more- except maybe Tatooine. It was in the far Outer-rim and very primitive in regards to most things, but they’d recently put in a bid with the senate asking to join the Republic. Anakin and Obi-Wan had been sent to negotiate with their monarch and ultimately welcome them to the Republic— that was the plan anyway.

A radical faction group that feared the people’s traditional way of life would be lost should they enter the Republic had a few objections to make. And apparently they thought the best way to make their contentions known was storming the building Anakin and Obi-Wan had been discussing terms with the planet’s rulers.

If this were any other situation, any other planet, this would barely present a problem; there was no one better with a lightsaber than Obi-Wan, and Anakin was no slouch himself. Except these people didn’t seem to be overly fond of blasters. One of the traditions the attackers seemed so keen on preserving was the use of some kind of projectile weapon Anakin had never encountered. The closest he’d come across was some kind of spear-throwing device the Tuskens had used, and it was enough for Anakin to decide he was not a fan.

Primitive or not, their weapons were frighteningly affective against lightsabers. Unlike blaster bolts which they could deflect, these projectiles just turned into smaller pieces of burning hot metal when struck by their blades. Obi-Wan and Anakin had figured this out the hard way and barely lived to learn their lesson.

The attack, along with the unexpected weapons, had taken Anakin and Obi-Wan by such surprise they failed to protect the monarch, narrowly escaping with their own lives. The two of them fled into the jungles surrounding the building, taking cover until they could circle back around to find their ship. Unfortunately, by the time they made their way back to it, it’d been hopelessly surrounded by armed locals. And again, if this had been nearly any other planet the sudden onslaught of violence wouldn’t have caused such a problem. But being as remote and underdeveloped as it was, communications were limited to only a few places on planet.

 

Thus, the two of them had been trudging through the jungle for the last three days, trying to find high enough ground that their communicators would be able to reach _somewhere_ that could get a message back to the council requesting backup. So, even though he wouldn’t admit it, Anakin was afraid. Or he would be if he could focus on anything beyond the ache in his limbs and the water soaking through his boots.

That was of course until he heard the cry of pain and thump his Master’s body made as it hit the ground not two meters in front of him. Anakin immediately dropped, his stomach pressed into the dirt, and began crawling to where Obi-Wan had fallen. Metal projectiles were flying over his head and he had no way of knowing whether they were being fired at the Jedi on purpose or if he and Obi-Wan had inadvertently stumbled into the middle of a battle but at the moment none of that mattered.

Anakin’s heart was pounding as he made his way to his Master’s fallen form. It took a lot to bring down Obi-Wan Kenobi. And right then, he wasn’t moving.

On aching elbows, Anakin approached him, “Master?” He asked in a harsh whisper, unsure of how far away the enemy might be. Obi-Wan didn’t answer beyond another groan when Anakin shook him gently, and it was then that he got his first look at the wound the older man had sustained. Bright red was spreading from his shoulder, further staining his beige robes that had already been dirtied almost beyond recognition after their trudging through the jungle.

Anakin couldn’t tell how close the projectile had hit to Obi-Wan’s heart but he knew the other man was still breathing- but he wasn’t doing much more than that. Overhead the chaos was coming closer and he knew he had to think fast if he had any hope of getting his Master out alive.

“Sorry about this Master,” Anakin said under his breath. He rose up into a crouch and grabbed Obi-Wan by the ankles, dragging him into nearby underbrush for cover. Other than a grimace and a hiss of pain, Obi-Wan barely reacted and that bothered Anakin more than if he’d started screaming; at least then he’d know he was aware of what was happening.

 

Enough sunlight filtered through the foliage that Anakin could still make out Obi-Wan’s wound, if not with as much clarity as he would’ve liked. It was clear though that the blood was still spreading, and fast. Another thing he hated about these projectile weapons: the wounds didn’t cauterize like those from a ‘saber or blaster bolt would’ve. Not knowing what else to do, he put pressure on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

“Master?” He whispered, and then again when the Knight didn’t answer. “Obi-Wan, please say something.” Obi-Wan muttered something unintelligible but otherwise said nothing. Anakin couldn’t help but wonder if whatever had pierced him hadn’t been dipped in some kind of poison for Obi-Wan to be affected this dramatically.

“Master, _please_.” Anakin felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes. The sounds of battle waged on around him but he was deaf to it- Obi-Wan was grey and looking worse by the second. He could feel panic rising up his spine but no. No, he decided, this was not how Obi-Wan was going to die, on some remote backwater planet bleeding out in the dirt.

Pressing the heels of his hands tighter against the wound, Anakin closed his eyes and breathed. He drowned out the sounds around him, his own panic, everything but the warm feeling of the Force pulsing through him and focused. He drew it out of himself, out of every living thing he could sense, and envisioned pouring it out through his hands as if it were the elixir of life itself.

In that moment it was as if everything beyond his task became blurred, unfocused. All he could feel was his life force working its way through their bond into Obi-Wan, winding them tighter together, strengthening the thread between them, as it went. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Anakin wondered if this was something like what mediation was supposed to feel like, but the thought evaporated like mist before it could take hold.

 

What felt like hours but in reality wasn’t more than a few minutes later, Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open like he’d been slapped awake. He took a deep shuddering breath and tried to sit up but Anakin’s hands, still pressed against his shoulder, held him in place.

“An-Anakin? What happened?” He asked, utterly bewildered. The last thing he remembered was walking in the jungle, looking down to check his communicator and then—nothing.

“You almost died- that’s what!” Anakin sniffled, pulling his hands back to wipe at his face. He was filthy, covered in blood and…crying? Anakin was undoubtedly a tad too emotional for a Jedi but Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually seen his Padawan cry.

“And you- did you…heal me?” Obi-Wan found his mind frustratingly foggy. He reached up to prod gingerly at his throbbing shoulder. “I didn’t know you could do that.” The wound wasn't healed over by any means; it still ached horribly and he was sure he'd require a trip to the healers as soon as they got back to the Temple. Still though, he was far cry from death's door. 

“I- I didn’t either,” Anakin said, blinking at him through bleary eyes.

Just then Obi-Wan’s communicator chirped, signaling an incoming message. Apparently, they’d made it to high enough ground before he’d been injured. Obi-Wan hit the button to answer the comm so quickly he almost dropped the thing.

As soon as Yoda’s hologram materialized Anakin felt a wave of relief so strong wash over him he thought he might start crying again. He’d never been so happy to see the Grandmaster’s wizened little face in his life.

 

 


	5. Small Mercies

The Clone Wars had only begun a few months earlier, but it was already beginning to take its toll on those who’d been on the frontlines. Chief among those was Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had quickly built up a reputation as one of the most reliable Knights the council could call on when a task seemed insolvable.

As willing as he was to be of use to the galaxy, Obi-Wan found the Order’s growing reliance on his skills to be more than a little exhausting. Even if he’d never admit it to anyone outside the privacy of his own mind. As the missions got longer and more perilous, the Jedi found himself worrying about his Padawan as much as anything else.

Anakin, of course, was more than capable of handling whatever was thrown his way. Obi-Wan worried more about the violence the young man was constantly exposed to. Danger and death would always be part of a Jedi’s existence but it had become a much larger portion of their lives since they shifted from peace keepers to generals and commanders.

Obi-Wan sighed, letting his head rest against the back of the couch. They’d only just gotten back from a successful mission less than a week prior and were already set to leave again the next day. He rolled his shoulders and neck, grimacing at the popping sound that echoed in his ears. As of late, even his regular meditation hadn’t been enough to loosen the knots in his muscles that’d built up since the start of the war.

 

Before he’d had more than a few minutes to unwind Obi-Wan heard the tale-tell beeping of their entry pad, signaling Anakin’s return from wherever it was that he’d been. Now that he was a senior Padawan, Obi-Wan didn’t keep nearly as close tabs on him as he used to. Still though he couldn’t help but notice how scarce Anakin had been in the days since they returned to Coruscant. He couldn’t remember sharing more than a handful of words with him since their ship docked.

In his exhaustion, Obi-Wan didn’t even bother to open his eyes at Anakin’s arrival. Idly he’d wondered where the younger man had been, but figured they’d have plenty of time to converse soon enough when they were once again stuck together in hyperspace.

“I know I tease you about being an old man but, really Master, napping in the middle of the day?” Anakin laughed, carelessly discarding his cloak on the couch. Obi-Wan, for once, didn’t chide him for his messiness, too exhausted to bother with it.

Across the room, Anakin frowned. If his Master wasn’t nagging him, he must really not be feeling well. “Are you sick?” He asked, striding over to press the back of his hand against Obi-Wan’s forehead.

“No, nothing like that,” Obi-Wan insisted, swatting his hand away. “Just a bit tired,” as he tried to lean forward though, he couldn’t keep the grimace off his face. “And sore- the stress of so many missions back to back, I suppose,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Yeah, the council has been piling them on lately,” Anakin said distractedly, pulling at his Padawan braid. “I could give you a back rub…I mean if you want,” he added quickly.

Obi-Wan didn’t reply right away but the spike of surprise in their bond was enough of a response for Anakin to continue talking as if he had.

“I mean I’m not half bad at it and we are leaving tomorrow so you probably shouldn’t go when you’re not in top condition.” He was rocking on the balls of his feet and very studiously not making eye contact.

“That sounds nice thank you,” Obi-Wan cut in, deciding to grant him a small mercy. “Where would you like me?”

“W-what?” Anakin blinked at him, looking startled.

“To sit, where would you like me to sit?” Obi-Wan clarified slowly. “I don’t think you can get much leverage like this,” he said, gesturing to his place on the armchair.

“Oh, right.” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I’ll just, uh, pull up a chair.” He drug one of the dining room chairs in front of where Obi-Wan was sitting in so the back was facing away from him.

“Sit there with your back to me,” he said, stepping back to give him more than ample room to maneuver himself into the chair. Obi-Wan complied, trying to keep the amused grin off his face at his Padawan’s floundering.

As soon as he was seated, Anakin sat in the armchair behind him and tentatively grasped his shoulders. At the feel of his loose grip, Obi-Wan instantly tensed up. Strange as it was to admit, it’d been some time since he’d had hands on him that weren’t out for blood.

It wasn’t more than a handful of seconds though before both of them had relaxed into the action of it. Anakin’s battle-strengthened hands worked at Obi-Wan’s shoulders as he breathed deep, trying to loosen his back as much as he could.

Eventually he moved down a bit and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the rumbling groan that crawled its way out of his chest as Anakin’s thumbs dug into a particularly tender spot.

“Did that hurt?” He asked, pulling back on the pressure a bit.

“No,” Obi-Wan said immediately, wanting him to go back to what he was doing. “Well, yes, but in a good way,” he amended.

“Kinky,” Anakin actually giggled at that, pressing his fingers back into the knot between Obi-Wan’s shoulder blades.

“Oh shut uhhh—” his sputtered protest was abruptly cut off by another involuntary exclamation of pleasure/pain. Anakin didn’t say anything but he could just _feel_ the smug satisfaction radiating off of him.

As Anakin continued to work his way down Obi-Wan’s spine, he felt pressure he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying release, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in months. It wasn’t until Anakin had gotten to the middle of his back that he realized it was no ordinary massage. He’d managed to hit all of his pressure points on the way down, releasing Obi-Wan’s tension in his Force signature as well as his muscles. It was a healer’s technique that was no doubt aided by the strength of their bond.

“Where- where did you learn how to do this?”

“I…may have taken a trip or two to the Hall of Healing. When they weren’t too busy, I mean.” He shrugged, the motion of it traveling through to his hands.

“You _voluntarily_ went to see the healers?” He asked, incredulity evident in his voice. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time that’d happened- if it ever had.

“I mean they’re not so bad- when they’re not forcing bacta and bedrest on me.” He kept his tone nonchalant but Obi-Wan could feel hints of embarrassment leaking through his shields.

“Maybe you can teach me some time. It seems to be a remarkably useful skill.” He sent a wave of soothing gratefulness toward the younger man, hoping to ease his slight discomfort at the tenderness of the gesture. “Then I can return the favor,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Yeah? I- I mean yeah,” Anakin audibly gulped. “I’d like that.”

 

Obi-Wan still couldn’t see Anakin’s face, but he knew he was smiling.

 

 


	6. Hours Between the Hours

 

Obi-Wan couldn't remember the last full night's sleep he'd gotten. It was getting harder to even find enough time to meditate properly as the mission he'd been assigned to wore on. He, his Padawan, and a great host of clones had been dispatched to a swampy outer-rim planet nearly two standard months earlier and it was only just beginning to look like they might be able to head back to the Temple some time in the foreseeable future. It would be fair to say that Obi-Wan was exhausted.

It was nearing midnight on planet when Obi-Wan finally made his way back to the tent he and Anakin had been sharing. His back ached and his limbs felt weighted down but there was a curious buzzing beneath his skin after so long awake. There was a sense of unreality behind his eyes and he knew it'd be hours before he got any sleep- if he was even given that much of a reprieve. 

 

Obi-Wan had been hoping Anakin would be asleep when he returned. His Padawan had been in increasingly unpredictable moods for the last week- not that Obi-Wan could blame him with the stress they'd been under- and the two of them had been butting heads more often than usual lately. Anakin seemed to vacillate arbitrarily between bucking any sort of authority Obi-Wan tried to place over him, and stubbornly clinging to his Master's side. 

Sometimes it felt to Obi-Wan that Anakin could hardly stand him. Other times though, he could almost swear he looked at him with a...heat he couldn't put a name to but made his stomach swoop in a way that he instinctively knew was dangerous. It was at those points he thought Anakin's ire may actually be safer than whatever else he might be feeling. 

The last time they'd spoken, earlier that day, had ended in a snit that put more of a cloud over an already overlong evening. Obi-Wan didn't have nearly enough energy for another bout. 

Approaching the tent he sighed, running a hand down his face; light poured out into the night through the gap in the tent flaps. He just hoped Anakin was in a better mood than he'd been in earlier. 

 

Anakin, as it turned out, seemed to be utterly at ease- at least compared to Obi-Wan's bedraggled state. He was lounging on his cot, tinkering with some bit of machinery or other but didn't seem to be particularly concentrated on it. 

"Hey Master," he smiled at him brightly when he entered, their earlier spat apparently forgotten.

"Good evening Anakin," he said, unable to keep a slight tinge of wariness from his voice. Obi-Wan had hoped that Anakin wouldn't catch it, but it just didn't seem to be his night. 

"I'm sorry about earlier," Anakin looked up at him guiltily, setting the bits of whatever it was he'd been working on down next to him on the bed. "I don't mean to be so argumentative. I guess I've just been on edge, with the war and everything. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"It's alright Anakin," Obi-Wan stepped in closer, relaxing now that he knew they weren't on the brink of another dispute. "I haven't been much better, I'll admit." And it was true; if he'd been as level-headed, unattached, as a Jedi Knight should be they wouldn't disagree nearly as often.

"Really? You always seem infuriatingly calm to me. Well, except when we're fighting," he laughed. 

"Yes well, you do have a way of getting under my skin," Obi-Wan kept his voice light, teasing.

"Do I? Sometimes I feel like you don't listen to anything I say." Anakin was still meeting his eyes but his attention seemed split between Obi-Wan and his own hands, clutched in his lap. Obi-Wan frowned at the statement, unsure of how serious it was meant to be taken. Anakin didn't  _sound_ upset, but sometimes with him there was no telling.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you feel that way," he said sincerely, deciding not to take the chance that the younger man had been genuinely hurt. Anakin seemed to contemplate that for a moment, biting his lower lip and frowning, before coming to a decision. 

"It's alright, I know you don't." In one swift motion, Anakin rose from the cot to advance on him almost predatorily. "Besides, you _are_ my Master after all," suddenly he was scant inches from Obi-Wan, grinning down at him, and leaving him to wonder what flipped the switch on his unpredictability this time. "It's my job to listen to you, not the other way around."

As Anakin towered over him, he found it difficult to remember a time he _didn't_ have to look up to meet his Padawan's eyes. Force, how long ago had that been?

"Yes well...you always seem to make me forget that." Distantly Obi-Wan had the sense that this was something he shouldn't be admitting to his apprentice but the buzz of exhaustion and adrenaline was loud enough to momentarily drown out his usual sense of propriety.

"Really? Well, that's good to know," Anakin's voice was dark, deeper than Obi-Wan remembered it being. His eyes flickered from Obi-Wan's down to his lips and back, slowly like he meant the other man to catch him at it.

Obi-Wan thought he should say something but he couldn't quite hold on to the thread of conversation, or parse out why Anakin was standing so close. The younger man was terribly distracting on his best days, and this very much wasn't one of them. Instead he just hummed noncommittally, which Anakin seemed to find quite funny if the wave of giddy amusement rising through their bond was anything to go by. 

Their chests were inches apart and Anakin's warmth was filling his space. Obi-Wan knew his shields must be shot, fatigue and shock leaving him off-center. Somewhere in the back of his mind, alarm bells were going off but Anakin was still smiling. His Force signature was nervous and fluttery but below that, warm and satisfied, deceptively comforting as it wrapped around Obi-Wan's own. 

Anakin tilted his head forward, almost imperceptibly, lips parting, eyes half-hooded but still locked on Obi-Wan's. He moved gently, carefully, so very unlike the brash, demanding man he was used to. His tongue darted out to swipe over his lips and Obi-Wan tried not to watch but the sparkle in Anakin's eyes told him he'd failed. 

Without thinking, he brought his hand up to cup the back of Anakin's neck- and then he felt it. His braid. His Padawan braid. Obi-Wan pulled back like he'd been electrocuted, covering his mouth with his hand. Anakin was his Padawan for Force's sake. What had he been _thinking_?

"Sorry Master, I know it's not a very flattering haircut," Anakin laughed, self-consciously running a hand over the back of his close-sheared hair. 

"What? Oh right, well you know, tradition and all that," Obi-Wan babbled awkwardly, taking another step back.

"But you know it won't be long before I can grow it out," his apprentice took a determined step forward and suddenly they weren't talking about awful Jedi haircuts anymore. 

"Not," he gulped, feeling his back pressed against the fabric of the tent. There was no more space to retreat to. "Not if you keep disobeying direct orders you won't," Obi-Wan quipped weakly.

Anakin just laughed again, still giving no ground. His eyes trailed down to Obi-Wan's lips yet again, leaning forward just a bit and-- 

"I- I just remembered I have to talk to Cody about the...the plans for tomorrow," Obi-Wan stuttered out, side-stepping to escape Anakin's pinning gaze.

Anakin rocked back on his heels, not seeming the least bit bothered by the brush-off. "You know Master," he said, a small smile flickering across his face. "You're a great Jedi- maybe even the best in the Order." He bit his lip then, making sure he'd caught Obi-Wan's gaze before continuing. "But your shielding techniques could use a little work."

The smirk he wore made Obi-Wan's stomach twist itself into knots. He needed to be somewhere that wasn't here- wasn't this cramped tent with no more than a foot of space between the two of them at any given time. 

"Right, that's a uh good call. I'll work on that." He moved back again, feeling out for the exit. "I've got to um. Go talk to Cody. So I'll...right." And with that eloquently worded explanation, he fled. 

 

The air outside wasn't any cooler or less humid than it'd been inside the tent. Somehow though, the second he stepped out into the evening, Obi-Wan suddenly felt like he could breathe freely again.

As he walked aimlessly toward the clone troopers' tents he wondered if one of them wouldn't mind letting him use their bed to catch a few hours of sleep while they were on patrol. Force knew he wouldn't be able to get any rest back in his shared tent with Anakin.

 

 


	7. You Built Me Up

 

Ahsoka had just finished her morning ‘saber practice and was headed back to her quarters when she spotted her Master walking toward the council room. He’d been gone for the last two weeks on a rare solo mission and she hadn’t even been aware he had returned. “Master!” She called out, jogging to catch up to him.

“Hey Snips,” he said, flashing her a tired smile. He must’ve just gotten back.   
  
“On your way to report to the council?”  
  
“Ugh yes,” he groaned, running a hand over his face dramatically.   
  
Ahsoka giggled, “well good luck with that.”   
  
“Gee thanks,” Anakin glared at her good-naturedly and turned to continue on his way toward the council.    
  
“Oh!” Ahsoka exclaimed, catching his attention before he could get too far. “Crazy about what happened with Master Obi-Wan huh?”   
  
“What about him? Is he okay?” He whipped back around, voice more than a little concerned.   
  
“Yeah he’s fine. You didn’t hear?” Ahsoka asked, keeping her statements purposefully vague. She knew very well he’d been out of the loop since he’d been gone. It wasn’t often she caught her Master unaware, and was maybe just a little too eager to drag the moment out.   
  
“Hear what Snips?” He asked, hand on his hip so she knew he was serious. News about Master Obi-Wan always got his attention.   
  
“He got in a fight- or well, not a _fight_ exactly, but a disagreement at least- with two of the other Knights- Master Tiin and umm…Master Koth I think it was? Don’t quote me on that though.”   
  
“He did?” Anakin’s voice raised a good octave or two. Obi-Wan was usually so levelheaded, especially with his fellow Jedi. “About what?”   
  
“Well…you, apparently.”   
  
“ _Me?_ What do you mean me?”  
  
“Well…” his Padawan trailed off a little uncomfortably, clearly hesitant to continue. At her Master’s insistent stare though, she relented. “They were, apparently, saying that you might not be entirely reliable and that you might, occasionally, fly off the handle…a bit.” She looked up at him sheepishly, unsure as to what his reaction might be.   
  
Anakin however, simply rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff. That wasn’t nearly the worst thing he’d ever heard about himself and he really couldn’t say he was surprised- or even that he completely disagreed with the assessment. What did surprise him though was the fact that his former Master had gone out of his way to defend him. He knew the older man cared about him of course; they trained and fought side by side nearly every day. But this was something else entirely.  
  
Granted, sometimes, occasionally, he thought he might’ve caught something…else in the way Obi-Wan looked at him. But when Anakin was Knighted and he never said anything, never acknowledged anything else that might’ve been between them, he decided to let it be, put it out of his mind. Mostly.    
  
“And what did Obi-Wan say?”   
  
“Well I don’t know exactly, something about how it’s not becoming of a Jedi Master to gossip and that you’ve won the council more victories than anyone, including himself. He was pretty upset from what I gather.”   
  
“Huh.” Anakin blinked in surprise. He didn’t know what to say to that. For Obi-Wan to have taken his side over members of the council? It was something he never would’ve expected. That or the warm feeling blossoming out of his chest from the information.   
  
“I _did_ say gossiping was inappropriate, did I not?” Came the exasperated voice of one Obi-Wan Kenobi, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere at the mention of his name.  
  
“You said it was inappropriate for a _Master_ ; I’m just a Padawan.” Ahsoka quipped, the mischievous glint in her eye almost eerily similar to Anakin’s own. Obi-Wan though did not seem quite so amused, simply glaring down at her with one eyebrow raised. “Sorry Master,” she said, though she was still grinning.   
  
Ahsoka dismissed herself almost immediately with an excuse about having coursework, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone in the hallway.   
  
“So,” the younger Knight began after a moment of silence. “You defended my honor huh?” He playfully elbowed his former Master in the ribs, not even bothering to hide the grin spreading across his face. “Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me not to lose my temper?”   
  
Anakin was almost unreasonably pleased by Obi-Wan’s having defended him- and having the opportunity to tease him about it-  and as such he was practically broadcasting satisfaction across their bond.   
  
“I didn’t lose my temper, I simply…explained- very calmly- why they were mistaken,” Obi-Wan said. His voice was level and sure but no amount of bluffing could hide the color rising in his cheeks. 

  
  
“Whatever you say Master,” Anakin was still smiling as they made their way to the council meeting together, side by side.

 

 

 


	8. I'd Ask the Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will they ever get together or will I just keep dragging them, and y’all (and myself) around indefinitely? Is there a point to any of this? Even I don’t know what I’m doing! Please enjoy more of my nonsense.

 

Anakin had always been inquisitive- and to a certain degree Obi-Wan expected as much. The boy didn’t grow up in the Temple and his formal education before coming under his tutelage was all but nonexistent. So he tried to remain patient at the seemingly never ending barrage of questions. And he succeeded- mostly.

The questions ranged from relatively simple (Why does Master Plo wear that mask?) to utterly impossible for him to answer (If everything should be kept in balance, why is the light good and the dark side forbidden?). Obi-Wan did his best to deliver a satisfying answer to all of them, with varying degrees of success.   
  
Through the years Anakin’s favorite question of all was always:  
  
“Why?”   
  
“Why does the council want us to do that?”   
  
“But _why_ Master?”

  
  
Despite his best efforts to remain patient, Obi-Wan kept anticipating the day when his apprentice’s questions would taper off. He was sure after Anakin’s being Knighted would put an end to his seeking out the wisdom of his old Master, and yet…   
  
“Master, how come the council thinks Zeltros is so important to the Republic?”   
  
“Anakin, I’m sure I’ve explained this already- recently even,” he huffed, frowning. “Do you even listen to me when I speak?”   
  
“Of course I do Master,” Anakin said far too quickly, his voice almost cracking like it hadn’t done In years. “I just…forget things sometimes.”   
  
“Hmph, sometimes I think you ask me to explain things just to hear me speak.” He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes sharp.   
  
“Wh- no of course not!” Anakin knew he was blushing furiously.   
  
“You…!” Obi-Wan just gaped at him for a long moment, unable to process his involuntary admission. “You _do_ , don’t you? Oh Anakin I can’t believe you.” Anakin knew that tone. He was mad- not fondly exasperated, but actually, really angry.   
  
“I’m sorry Master, I just-”    
  
“Oh save it Anakin. You’ve been doing this for years haven’t you?”   
  
“Well I-” this was just getting worse and worse.   
  
“Do you just enjoy making a fool of me, is that it?” He threw his hands up in frustration. Was this a question Obi-Wan actually expected an answer to or..?   
  
“N-no that’s not it at all!”   
  
“Then what, you like wasting my time? Contrary to what you might think I-”   
  
“I like your voice, okay?” Anakin blurted out.   
  
“…what?” Even more than the earlier one, this admission ground the conversation to a halt.   
  
“It’s not that I don’t listen I just…like the sound of your voice.” He was bright red and glaring at the floor. “Always have,” he added almost as an afterthought.   
  
It took Obi-Wan a full minute to answer before he could respond with a very eloquent, “Why?”   
  
“What do you mean why?” It was Anakin’s turn to be confused.   
  
“What’s so special about it?” If it were anyone else Anakin might suspect he was fishing for compliments. But being that it was Obi-Wan, he probably had no idea.   
  
“It’s, well. It’s nice.” He sputtered, struggling to explain something that had always seemed so obvious to him. “Warm and y’know, soothing. And then there’s that accent- on other beings it sounds so pretentious but with you it’s just natural and-” at that point he realized he was rambling and cut himself off abruptly, jaw snapping shut.   
  
Obi-Wan still wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d never particularly considered his voice one way or another. What mattered was that he could make people listen- well other than Anakin of course.  He realized he had to say _something_ though before Anakin began to panic, as he was wont to do.   
  
“You’ve always liked it, wait— you said you’ve been doing this for _how_ long?”   
  
“Well I mean when I first got here I really didn’t know much about anything so those questions were all genuine but uh pretty much…forever.” He had that expression on Obi-Wan was very well acquainted with. It was the same one he’d adopted whenever he knew he’d done something truly outrageous.   
  
Obi-Wan just sighed, massaging his temples. “Honestly I don’t know whether to be angry or flattered.”   
  
“I say go with the second one, it suits you better.” Anakin’s apologetic expression twisted into a wry grin and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh.   
  
“All right, fine. Flattered it is. Though I do wish you’d actually listen to _what_ I’m saying a bit more often as long as I’m going to be speaking.”   
  
“Hmm…” Anakin bit his lip, pretending to think. “No promises,” he said, winking in a way that probably shouldn’t have been nearly as charming as it was. 

 

 


	9. Come on Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin ships Obikin almost as hard as I do.

 

Despite what some people seemed to believe, even for Anakin, age brought some measure of wisdom and he’d realized the forceful approach he’d taken with his Master late in his apprenticeship probably wasn’t the cleverest plan he could’ve come up with.

Anakin may have (mostly) given up on he and Obi-Wan actually getting together awhile ago—if he ever actually entertained the possibility at all. After the maybe-almost-kiss that neither of them ever brought up again, he figured he could safely assume his former mentor didn’t feel the same and was simply saving Anakin the humiliation of being let down easy. And he couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate the sentiment; an outright rejection from his once Master would’ve been admittedly crushing.   
  
But none of that stopped him from daydreaming- and actually dreaming- about a few dozen ways it could happen. Even though he’d settled on never saying anything aloud, he figured he was safe within the confines of his mind, the Code and its obsession with letting everything go be damned.   
  
The scenarios Anakin had amassed over the years ranged from slightly realistic to the outright ridiculous, depending on how fanciful his imagination was feeling that day. But he had a few well-worn favorites.   
  
  
  
There was the always classic: he and Obi-Wan would be locked in a fierce battle with separatist droids, lightsabers swinging as they fought a few feet from each other. But then! Suddenly Obi-Wan would be disarmed, caught in the middle of a swarm of droids all but helpless.   
  
Luckily Anakin would feel his spike of fear through their bond and gracefully leap to his former Master’s side. He'd hold the droids off long enough for Obi-Wan to summon his lightsaber from where it’d landed. Then, in perfect synch, they would fight back-to-back until the the droids were defeated.   
  
Afterwards, when it was just the two of them surrounded by broken-down hunks of metal, Obi-Wan would wrap an arm around Anakin’s waist, pulling him in close. He’d thank him for being so brave and say something really eloquent and romantic. (Anakin imagined his former Master would be as talented with words then as he was in most other situations.) Then he’d kiss him until they were both even more breathless than they’d been from the battle.   
  
  
  
Anakin liked that one but could admit it wasn’t the most realistic- if getting into dangerous situations was all it took, they’d have been together ages ago. Another one, that was probably a little closer to reality, was: him and Obi-Wan getting back to Coruscant after a harrowing, nearly disastrous mission, and decide to go out for a drink to celebrate not getting killed.   
  
They’d choose a quiet, dimly lit bar- neither of them being much for thumping dance clubs, and find a table with a booth in the back corner. A few drinks in and Obi-Wan would be pink, his hair a little disheveled (Anakin has been acquainted with, and was very fond of, drunk Obi-Wan and could picture him perfectly), shields down.   
  
Through the night they would’ve been scooting closer and closer until their thighs and shoulders were brushing against one another. Obi-Wan would lean in, resting his head against Anakin’s shoulder and look up at him with those pretty blue eyes just a little dazed from drinking. Then he’d whisper, right in Anakin’s ear, something like “Don’t you know what you do to me?” He’d tell him how hard he tried not to defy the Code but he couldn’t help it anymore. But Anakin would tell him it was alright, he felt the same.  
  
Then Obi-Wan would bring his hand up to Anakin’s cheek, turning his face until they were kissing.   
  
  
  
And okay, so that one maybe lacked a bit of a romantic touch- but Anakin never claimed to be a poet. Most of his imagined scenarios were for lonely nights in the field surrounded by clones, or alone in the Temple. Admittedly, some of them got a little more airplay than others.   
  
One that’d probably gotten more than it’s fair share was the two of them sparring in the Temple, keeping sharp between missions. It’d be one of the increasingly rare occasions when they were both uninjured and operating at full capacity.   
  
In his mind’s eye Anakin could envision how graceful Obi-Wan would look. The determined glint he’d get in his eye, that faint smirk he always got when he knew he had the upper hand. How he’d block, evade and counter every move, as he knew his former apprentice’s fighting style almost better than Anakin knew it himself.   
  
They would’ve disarmed one another early on, quickly moving on to basic hand-to-hand and then grappling.   
  
Then, as they were wrestling for control, Anakin would finally pin his Master, straddling his hips, hands holding his wrists to the floor. But then, with a touch of Force, Obi-Wan would flip them until he was on top and then—   
  
Well then it devolved rather quickly into a private fantasy he wasn’t likely to admit to even under threat of death. (Granted, most of his imaginings ended in a similar fashion, but still.)  

  
  
Back in reality, Anakin and Obi-Wan were alone together in hyperspace (and Force if _that_ wasn’t the starting point of a few of daydreams itself) on their way back to the Temple. Anakin sighed; he tried not to be melodramatic about the whole thing but couldn’t help thinking that it was a shame he couldn’t just tell his Master how he felt. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already done as much years ago, but as time passed, Anakin figured Obi-Wan must’ve just assumed it was a childish Padawan-crush, nothing unusual about it.   
  
If that’s all it had been Anakin figured it really wouldn’t have been anything for Obi-Wan to get worked up over. Which was why it felt safer to keep it as quiet as he had for so many years. Better that than risk ruining their bond. What they had was great, it was amazing— it was _enough_.   
  
He sighed again.   
  


  
  
Anakin no doubt thought he was being sly, with his bottom lip biting and and longing looks through half-lowered lashes. But subtlety and Anakin Skywalker went together like  Parwans and gravity. And Obi-Wan may have been accused of being oblivious to his own charms once or twice, but he’d have to be blind, deaf, and Force-null not to notice Anakin’s continued wanting. He wasn’t sure about any specifics of course, even if he could see past the younger man’s shields it would have been a terrible invasion of privacy.   
  
But it didn’t take a Jedi to ascertain where Anakin’s mind was headed, even if he didn’t know exactly what path it’d taken. Admittedly, it would be quite dishonest to say he wasn’t curious, hadn’t thought about it himself- even if he didn’t broadcast his every feeling the way Anakin had a tendency to do. But Obi-Wan thought he’d give him time- to mature, to decide if it was really something he wanted, to make the first move if there was to be one.   
  
The more time he allowed to pass though, the more Anakin just continued with his helpless, _obvious_ pining. And since Obi-Wan couldn’t, wouldn’t, read the other’s thoughts, he’d have to coax them out of him another way.   
  
“Where’s your mind at Padawan?” Obi-Wan asked, reverting to the old title in an attempt to get his attention. And hopefully get on with finally putting words to his many years of daydreams.   
  
“Oh! I um, nowhere Master,” Anakin sputtered, clearly caught off guard at being called out in the middle of some fantasy or other. “Just spacing out, it’s nothing,” he said dismissively, eyes flicking down towards the floor.  
  
  
And Obi-Wan considered just letting it be, would have, if not for the lingering _longing_ gaze Anakin directed at him the moment he thought his Master wouldn’t notice. But again, Anakin and subtlety were mortal enemies and Obi-Wan would have to be the densest Jedi in the Order _not_ to notice.   
  
“Kriff it-” Obi-Wan spun on his heel to face his former apprentice, taking his shoulders in hand.   
  
“Master…?” Anakin blinked at him, alarm and confusion traveling through their bond.  
  
But Obi-Wan didn’t give him more than a handful of seconds to process what was happening before he pulled him forward into a kiss, hard and pressing. Anakin just stood stock-still, frozen in shock. Obi-Wan wasn’t worried though and didn’t pull back right away, but instead gave him a moment to adjust this sudden new worldview.   
  
And then, just like he knew he would, Anakin _surged_ forward, grabbing the sides of Obi-Wan’s face and pulling him in impossibly closer. He made an almost desperate-sounding groan into the kiss, tilting his head to deepen it as far as Obi-Wan would allow.   
  
They had to break for air eventually but before Obi-Wan could say anything, or even properly catch his breath, Anakin was on him again. He rained a dozen or so smaller kisses against his lips, cheeks, and jawline, all with a level of enthusiasm that eclipsed even Obi-Wan’s expectations.   
  
“I take it that was welcome then?” He asked a bit smugly, knowing very well that it was.   
  
“ _Master_ , how long did you know?” Anakin asked between breathless kisses.   
  
“No offense meant Darling, but you have all the subtlety of a heard of wild stampeding Banthas,” he laughed, though not unkindly.   
  
Still, Anakin groaned and dropped his forehead to rest on his Master’s shoulder, embarrassment flooding his signature. “I really thought I’d done a good job of keeping it to myself.”   
  
“Well if it makes you feel better, I’m sure I was unaware for quite awhile.” He rubbed a hand down Anakin’s back in a way that’d always soothed him. “Though,” he added with a teasing smirk, “that probably has more to do with my own obliviousness than any cunning on your part.”   
  
“Thanks for letting me salvage some of my dignity Master,” Anakin deadpanned, glaring at him in mock annoyance. He couldn’t keep the act up long though before leaning in for another kiss, mostly just amazed that he could.  
  


  
  
“You know what though?” Anakin asked, completely unprompted, some time later.   
  
“Mm?”   
  
“I always imagined you’d be more romantic.”

 

 


	10. I Think That's What I Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh writing this chapter was like dealing with a surly teenager that didn't want to go to school I s2g

 

If Obi-Wan thought Anakin would be any less needy after they’d breached the unspoken barrier that was their mutual attraction- he would’ve been sorely mistaken. It would be far more accurate to say the floodgates had been opened. That wasn’t to say Obi-Wan _minded_ the sudden deluge of attention, or that he would ever indicate such a thing to Anakin even if he did. But the fact remained that Obi-Wan was a Jedi first and foremost, and as such, wasn’t accustomed to open, physical displays of affection. The things that came naturally for Anakin he found to be wonderful and very welcome but…overwhelming.

Obi-Wan had come prepared for some amount of increase in displays of affection when he’d decided to make his feelings known. Definitely more than the average Jedi would be used to- maybe even more than the average _being_ , Anakin of course being, well, Anakin. He’d expected more overt closeness in certain hours, perhaps evenings when they were both free, or even on long missions when sharing quarters was easily explainable. As ever with his very own Chosen One though, Obi-Wan got much more than he’d bargained for.   
  
  
Take an everyday activity like cooking dinner. It began ordinarily enough, with Obi-Wan setting out vegetables to chop while waiting for the broth on the stove to start boiling. Which was when two strong arms snaked around his middle, his back pulled snug into Anakin’s chest. Thankfully years of training had cured him of a tendency toward startling, because otherwise the rather large kitchen knife he was holding might be a bit disconcerting. Anakin of course didn’t seem to consider or even notice this fact as he pressed his face into the side of Obi-Wan’s neck.    
  
“Smells good Master,” he rumbled into his skin.   
  
“I’ve hardly started,” Obi-Wan protested, gesturing to the unchopped vegetables and still-clean kitchen at large.   
  
“Wasn’t talking about the food,” he laughed, breathing him in like they’d been apart more than the few hours their daily tasks at the Temple required of them.  
  
“Well aren’t you smooth?” Obi-Wan quipped, only slightly sarcastically. He felt Anakin’s shoulders rise and fall in a half-hearted shrug, but the amused satisfaction in their bond didn’t lie.   
  
“Anakin, if I don’t get started we won’t have anything to eat,” he protested.  
  
“Go ahead- I’ll help,” he said, not moving. His “help” apparently consisted of impeding Obi-Wan’s every movement, putting their bond to use syncing up their steps to follow him around the kitchen. He couldn’t figure how the taller man managed to stoop low enough to rest his chin on Obi-Wan’s shoulder to manage it without tripping over their feet, but he supposed Jedi skills came in handy in a multitude of ways.   
  
All the rest of it would’ve been fine if Anakin hadn’t started kissing the side of his neck, nipping at his earlobe. Obi-Wan’s concentration was so shot he nearly burned the whole meal and when he pointed this out to Anakin, the younger man just shrugged again, smiling like he thought he’d just received a compliment.    
  
  
Or there was what used to be the peaceful routine of reading with a nice cup of tea at his side. Which was now _trying_ to read while balancing a datapad in one hand, while Anakin had claimed his other side, arm and all, for himself. He’d wrapped Obi-Wan’s arm around his shoulders, threaded their fingers together, and curled into him.   
  
“Anakin, I’m having a little trouble scrolling and holding the datapad with only one hand,” he all but whispered, gently as he could, into the mess of curls tickling at his cheek.   
  
“Oh, my apologies Master,” Anakin blinked up at him smilingly. Obi-Wan felt relieved and a little ridiculous; of _course_ all he had to do was—   
  
Anakin plucked the datapad from his fingers, placing it on the table, and crawled over Obi-Wan until his larger frame had covered him completely. “Of _course_ , you can just read whatever when we don’t have time alone,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy. And the way Anakin kissed him then, so thoroughly he’d well and forgotten what he was reading about in the first place, well, maybe it was.   
  
  
So perhaps that wasn’t the best example- even if Obi-Wan wasn’t nearly as productive when Anakin was around. He could (more than) live with that. Still though, lines had to be drawn _somewhere_. They were Jedi for kark’s sake, and these frequent lapses in concentration were concerning at best. Training was mostly just flirting wearing a sweaty disguise. Meditation was all but impossible.   
  
And Force, if Obi-Wan thought Anakin’s longing looks were bad before, well. Everything from mission briefings to sparring sessions were filled with adoring gazes so obvious he had a hard time believing he was the only one who saw it. The sheer amount of mental shielding he had to do to assure no one else was looking in on the feelings- _images_ \- Anakin was pushing his way would probably impress even the council, if he could tell them without defeating its entire purpose, of course.   
  
  
When Obi-Wan really thought about it, there wasn’t any _one_ thing he’d change. In truth, he enjoyed a bit of all of it, even the unexpected onslaughts of not-entirely-situation-appropriate thoughts sent his way, more than he could’ve anticipated. If he were to put a name to the way all of it together made him feel though, he’d say he was _over-saturated_.   
  
If he stopped to consider the situation from a different point of view- which, of course, he did- he started to wonder if maybe he wasn’t the one with the problem. Anakin clearly wasn’t having any trouble expressing himself; he’d defined their new dynamic almost effortlessly. In fact he seemed happier than he had since before the beginning of the war, if no less tightly-wound. Their interactions undoubtedly were much smoother- or would be if Obi-Wan could just kriffing _relax_.   
  
He turned the idea over in his mind for days. Maybe that _was_ it- who was he to assume it was Anakin who needed to change? He wasn’t Obi-Wan’s Padawan anymore after all; he was an adult, his equal, and there were plenty of things Anakin could teach his former Master.   
  
It would take time, Obi-Wan mused to himself, to transition from a position of teaching to one of observation and learning. This seemed as good a place as any to start.   
  
  
Obi-Wan started small- fingers brushing against the back of Anakin’s knuckles, lingering looks he wouldn’t have chanced before, even when they weren’t entirely alone. Mostly just attempting to initiate contact before Anakin could. Which wasn’t as easy as it sounded, considering the other man tended to be on or pressed against him whenever they were in the same room.   
  
So he improvised- leaned in to touches when he was too late to make the first move, resisted the urge to shrink away when emotions were being pumped through their bond. He wasn’t entirely sure whether Anakin took notice of the change in his behavior but he did seem to _glow_ more, smile warmer.

  
Then, an admittedly embarrassing amount of time later, Obi-Wan had finally summoned the courage and spotted his opportunity. Anakin was lounging on the couch in Obi-Wan’s apartment, tools and droid parts spread across the table like he lived there (to be fair, it would be an easy mistake to make as he spent more time there than he did in his own quarters). He seemed utterly absorbed by whatever problem this particular bit of machine had presented him with and hadn’t even acknowledged Obi-Wan’s arrival.  
  
This was it- Obi-Wan thought, bizarrely nervous. Taking a steeling breath, he padded across the room to claim the empty seat next to him on the couch. He curled into Anakin’s side like the other man had done to him a hundred times over, resting his cheek against his shoulder. Given his smaller stature, Obi-Wan fit better against Anakin’s side than than the taller man ever did his, but he still felt slightly stiff, like he couldn’t figure out where to put his limbs or how much to press into the embrace. How did Anakin make it all seem so natural?   
  
Obi-Wan didn’t have much time to fret though; the second he made contact, Anakin’s head snapped up and he glanced over at his former Master. The surprise coming off of him was strong enough that Obi-Wan was tempted to pull away, make himself scarce- never mind the fact that it was _his_ apartment.   
  
But then Anakin’s face broke out in the widest grin and he wrapped the arm Obi-Wan had been leaning into around his shoulders.   
  
“Hey Master,” was all he said, pressing a kiss into Obi-Wan’s hair. He didn’t drop what he was doing or react any further, as Obi-Wan might've expected. Instead he just repositioned himself until they were both comfortable, and continued working in silence. And it was surprisingly…nice.   
  
  
Slowly, over days and weeks, his discomfort abated- one shared nap, one embrace, one smile at a time. Obi-Wan found the more he gave, the less Anakin demanded, as if he had been waiting for Obi-Wan to meet him in the middle all along. 

  
And maybe _that_ was the answer he’d been looking for. Maybe neither of them were all right or wrong and it was just about learning to compromise. Not so different from negotiating- maybe, Obi-Wan thought with a dash of hopefulness, he wasn’t quite so out of his depth after all.

 

 


	11. Legs of Animal Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin is petty af and I love him

 

Summer always fell upon Coruscant like a heavy synthwool blanket. The smell of hot cooking garbage wafted up from the lower levels to saturate the air of even the highest towers in the Temple. Obi-Wan wasn’t one to complain but neither would he turn down any off-planet missions passed his way during the summer months. Absent that, the main reprieve afforded to him was the Temple’s relaxed dress requirements. Namely, the tendency of most Knights and Padawans to shed at least a _few_ outer layers when the weather started to heat up.

Presently, nearly every member of the council was dressed for summer, fewer layers and slightly lower necklines. Obi-Wan longed for the freedom to join them. As it was, he sat in misery, sweating through his tunic and resisting the urge to pull at his tightly-wrapped collars.   
  
He could _feel_ the smug amusement radiating off Anakin from where he was sitting, his own robes open nearly halfway down his chest. He just knew the younger man was waiting for Obi-Wan to acknowledge his discomfort. Well, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He sat, back stubbornly straight, voice level as they held their (excessively long) meeting. The picture of a perfect Jedi Master.   
  
That didn’t stop him from— privately, behind carefully erected shields— cursing Anakin, the weather, and his own stupid pride. But mostly Anakin, this was his fault, after all…  
  
  
  
Obi-Wan’s breath hitched as Anakin’s teeth nipped a particularly sharp bite into his neck. He tried not to keen but it came out anyway, high and breathy just the way Anakin liked and Obi-Wan despised. His reactions only served as fuel for his former apprentice’s pride and further ministrations- like he really _needed_ any more encouragement in either area.   
  
Anakin’s mouth continued to work over his neck and shoulders until he’d apparently satisfied himself and he moved his way down. Obi-Wan was too distracted to think about it at the time, but when he spotted his reflection some hours later, he noticed the bruises and bite marks littering his neck and clavicles, all varying sizes and color, light pink to dark purple. Running a gentle hand across the well-loved skin he felt his stomach flutter in a way he decided not to think too hard about.   
  
In any case, the ghost of Anakin’s self-satisfaction was practically emanating off his skin, and there was no way he could let anyone else see him as he was. He sighed and placed his finger tips against one of the darker bruises, getting to work on Force-healing them, one by one.   
  
As soon as he walked into the other room, Anakin’s eyes were drawn to his newly-healed skin. A strange expression came over his face and he offered a smile Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure he trusted. But then Anakin kissed him again without mentioning the cleared marks, and the matter slipped from Obi-Wan’s mind as quickly as it’d come.   
  
  
  
Some weeks later the two of them were in Obi-Wan’s quarters again. Having just finished eating dinner, Anakin floated his plate from the table, setting it down in the sink with a soft clatter.   
  
“Anakin, I’d hardly call that appropriate use of the Force.”   
  
“I’m sorry Master— it should only be used for really important reasons right?” His tone was strange and Obi-Wan had the distinct impression that he was walking into a trap but…  
  
“Yes, you know that,” he said slowly, suspiciously.   
  
“So more like…healing love-bites for instance? Would that be important enough to fall under ‘appropriate use’?” He stroked his chin and tilted his head to the side like he really wanted an answer.   
  
“Anakin I don’t—”  
  
“No, no you’re right I’ve heard they can be life-threatening I’m sure the council would approve—”  
  
“Alright you’ve made your point,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “But you know I wouldn’t have to if you wouldn’t mark me up like an…an _animal_.”  
  
“An animal huh?” Anakin raised an amused eyebrow in an expression that looked suspiciously close to one of Obi-Wan’s own. “Whatever, you love it.”   
  
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what to say to that because he wasn’t _wrong_ , but “I still can’t have anyone else in the Temple seeing them.”    
  
Anakin wasn’t listening to that bit of course, all he heard was his Master’s lack of denial, if his obnoxious grin was anything to go by.   
  
“Are you even listening to me? No more marks.” Even Obi-Wan could hear the lack of force behind this command, but this wasn’t the time for that.   
  
“Yeah, I hear you, no more marks,” he repeated back to him in a voice that suggested he very much did not. Still, he gathered up the rest of the dishes by hand and got to work cleaning them. That strange knowing smile filling Obi-Wan with a distant sense of anxiety never did fully vanish from his face, however.  
  
  
And Anakin kept his word— for about a week.   
  
The two of them had just finished an unusually simple mission and were headed back to Coruscant. About half a minute after Anakin activated the autopilot, propelling them into hyperspace, he was on Obi-Wan. The Jedi Master had learned very quickly after he and Anakin had started _seeing_ each other that there was no longer any distinction between what was “his” space and what was Anakin’s.   
  
His former Padawan proved that yet again as he climbed on top of him. He more than filled every available inch of the copilot seat that was far too small for two grown human men. Obi-Wan didn’t protest though, just planted his feet and wrapped both arms around Anakin’s waist to try and keep them from toppling to the floor. He could feel those full lips smile against own as Anakin tilted his head in a futile attempt to bring them closer.   
  
Between the fingers massaging his scalp and the teeth nibbling at his bottom lip, Obi-Wan’s initial discomfort at the less-than-ideal venue disappeared in a matter of seconds. The kiss was eventually broken for want of air and Anakin moved on to his cheeks, earlobes, jaw— his hands rubbing gentle circles into the divots of Obi-Wan’s hips.   
  
The older Knight tipped his head back almost involuntarily as Anakin nosed under his jawline, hot breath tickling his skin. He started mouthing at his sensitive pulse point and Obi-Wan had the vague sense that he should- shouldn’t?- be doing something. But the ship cruised on peacefully, they wouldn’t be at Coruscant for at least six hours, neither of them were injured, and _Force_ everything Anakin was doing felt so nice.   
  
It wasn’t until those so-soft lips sucked a third mark into his neck that Obi-Wan remembered just why the little alarm bell at the back of his head kept going off.   
  
“ _Anakin_!” The older Knight pushed his shoulders back suddenly. He would’ve fallen onto the floor had Obi-Wan not caught him at the last moment, arms wrapped around his behind instinctively pulling him back to safety.   
  
“What’s wrong?” He asked in that mock-sincere tone that gave Obi-Wan flashbacks to his Padawan days.   
  
“You know perfectly well what’s wrong!” He snapped, struggling to regain the composure befitting a Jedi Master. To his credit, Anakin did look slightly guilty, biting his lip, wide eyes blinking up at him prettily, and—   
  
“Cut that out,” Obi-Wan shook his head to clear his thoughts. Anakin just whined pitifully and Obi-Wan did push him off then, though gently enough that he was able to get his feet underneath him first.   
  
He moved back just enough to give Obi-Wan enough room to stand. Feeling his former Master’s discontent, he did appear to be at least a shade contrite, holding out a hand to help him up.   
  
“Are you gonna heal them?” He asked, voice soft, fingers brushing over the marks almost reverently.     
  
How could he? If he did he’d never be able to admonish Anakin for improper use again— not without being a terrible hypocrite. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, they’ll stay.”   
  
The way Anakin kissed him then was soft and apologetic. But Obi-Wan knew him well enough to feel the air of triumph underneath.   
  
  
  
…Which brought him to now, sitting among the stoic Jedi Council, trying to ignore the droplets of sweat trickling down his forehead, tickling the small of his back. Throughout the meeting, other members’ eyes kept darting in his direction— he was sure of it.   
  
Obi-Wan gulped heavily as Mace glanced over at him for what he swore was the third time since he’d sat down. He could feel his collars chafing at his bruised skin, and oh he was going to kriffing _kill_ Anakin—  
  
“Master Kenobi,” Mace said finally, seemingly speaking for the entire council as he usually did.   
  
Obi-Wan’s stomach turned; this was it.   
  
“I, we, couldn’t help noticing that you’ve chosen to stay in full uniform despite the weather.” How was he going to explain himself? “Always the model Jedi, even among the council.” His voice was tinted with the slightest hint of pride and— what? Obi-Wan nearly choked in shock.  
  
“Oh I, thank you. It’s nothing really,” he said dismissively, trying to hide his surprise.   
  
“You could learn a thing or two from your former Master, Skywalker,” Mace said to Anakin, who was covering his mouth with a hand, in an attempt to hide his grin.    
  
“Oh I think I’ve learned _plenty_ ,” he said, finally surrendering to a fit of laughter.    
  
Most of the council looked at him then, an equal mixture of confusion and mild annoyance. In any other circumstance Obi-Wan might've joined them, but at the moment he was honestly too relieved to be bothered.

 


	12. Sunshine Lines

 

The early morning sun was coming in through the slats of the blinds pulled down over the window, barely enough light filtering in for Anakin to make out anything more than a few inches in front of his face. He’d be tempted to get up and let in a bit more light if he didn’t think it would wake his sleeping Master.

Obi-Wan had always been a light sleeper and serving months and years on end in a brutal galaxy-wide war hadn’t done him any favors in that regard. In the years since the two of them had put between peace and wartime, his edges had been softened slightly. But Obi-Wan would always be a Jedi, even if he wasn’t.   
  
Now though, his breathing was even, Force signature at peace. It was so rare for Anakin to wake before his former Master he could probably count the occasions he’d been lucky enough to catch Obi-Wan sleeping when he hadn’t been submerged in bacta or otherwise indisposed on one hand.   
  
There was just enough golden light coming in to illuminate the older man’s features from the gloom. 

  
  
Finally giving in to temptation, Anakin brushed the tips of his fingers along the curve of Obi-Wan’s cheekbone, in feather-light touches. He moved up to trace the lines forming around his eyes. Deep creases when he smiled, they were barely visible in his slumber. Anakin doubted they’d ever be as stark as the single frown line that’d been growing between his Master’s brows for longer than he’d known him, but he was grateful to watch these particular wrinkles form. Glad for the proof that he smiled at least that much, glad they’d both lived long enough to see it happen.   
  
_Sunshine lines_ , they’d always called them on Tatooine. He smiled to himself; the term suited Obi-Wan so well.   
  
“Am I still dreaming or have you actually woken up before me?” Obi-Wan rumbled in a sleep-rough voice, eyes still closed.   
  
“Sorry— I couldn’t help myself,” Anakin said, not sounding sorry at all. “You’re just so beautiful.” He pressed the flat of his palm against Obi-Wan’s cheek, turning his face toward him till their noses were nearly tip-to-tip.   
  
“It’s not nice to tease the elderly Anakin,” Obi-Wan cracked an eye open, offering his first frown of the day— that familiar line making itself known.   
  
“Not teasing,” he protested.   
  
“Well that’s a fir-” before he could finish the quip, Anakin pressed their lips together almost a touch too forcefully, tilting his head until their mouths slotted together just right. He brought his hands down to press Obi-Wan’s shoulders into the mattress, maneuvering himself until he was lying flat on top of the other man.   
  
Years together may have softened a few of Anakin’s edges as well. He didn’t cling quite so desperately, or worry quite so often. That didn’t mean, however, that he was any less tactile than he’d ever been. Pressed together from chest to toes, Anakin wasn’t satisfied until they couldn’t get any closer. Then, finally, he broke the kiss.  
  
Pinned underneath him, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, slowly coming back to himself. His lips were still parted, cheeks pink, pupils blown wide, breathing shallow and uneven as he looked up at him.   
  
“Beautiful,” Anakin repeated, shimmying down enough to rest his head against Obi-Wan’s chest.   
  
Something else that had never changed was Obi-Wan’s inability to take a compliment gracefully, too many years steeped in Jedi modesty. Anakin was used to it though, and didn’t let the answering grunt of skepticism bother him. 

  
  
After a few minutes of silence there was one thought though, that he couldn’t seem to shake.   
  
“Master?” It’d been years since either of them had held the title of Jedi Knight, but old habits died hard. And, in all honesty, both of them were almost unfairly attached to the old honorific to retire it entirely.    
  
“Mm?”  
  
“When did you first fall in love?”   
  
“What, ever?” Obi-Wan asked, eyebrow raised in his usual way.   
  
“No, I mean with me,” he laughed, no longer bothered by the idea that Obi-Wan might've loved others in the past. In a way, he was even glad for it. Grateful that the other man hadn’t been alone before they’d grown into each other.   
  
“That’s a strange question. I couldn’t say for sure.”   
  
“Gimme a guess,” he insisted, poking at Obi-Wan’s ribs.   
  
“Sometime in the middle of the war I’m sure," he answered after a long moment of contemplation. "After you were Knighted and we didn’t see quite so much of each other anymore.”   
  
“ _Hey!_ ” Anakin protested in mock-offense  
  
“I only mean it took distance for me to see it,” Obi-Wan laughed, the pleasant rumble of it traveling through Anakin’s body. “You were— _we were_ too close before, for me to see you as anything other than my Padawan.”   
  
“Oh yeah that makes sense,” Anakin was unable to keep the slight edge disappointment to himself.   
  
“What is it?” Obi-Wan of course picked up on it immediately, as he seemed to with nearly everything Anakin thought or felt.   
  
“It’s nothing, that’s just so… _wholesome_ ,” he said the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth.   
  
“What’s wrong with that?” He asked, barking out a shocked laugh at Anakin’s bizarre complaint.   
  
“Oh I dunno, I was your _Padawan_. That’s the stuff of trashy holodramas, almost seems like a waste of a good scandal.”   
  
“You’d rather I was, what? Lusting after you when you were still my student?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously.   
  
“Maybe.” Anakin shrugged, propping his chin on the back of his hand to look up at his former Master, that ever-present mischievous sparkle in his eyes visible even in the low light.    
  
“You are just as ridiculous as you’ve ever been,” he ran his fingers through Anakin’s hair, disheveling it further, if possible. The younger man just closed his eyes and smiled in response.

 

“What about you?” Obi-Wan asked after another moment. 

“Hm?” Anakin responded sleepily, the gentle petting having thoroughly derailed any train of thought he might’ve had.   
  
“When did you first fall in love?” Obi-Wan felt a little ridiculous asking, even if he wasn’t the one to have brought up the topic.   
  
“Oh, when I was fifteen,” he answered immediately.   
  
“Really?” That Anakin could pinpoint an exact moment surprised him as much as the answer itself.   
  
“Yeah- I mean I knew better than  _do_ anything about it back then-"

"Thank the Force for that," Obi-Wan interjected, shuddering at what an awful, awkward disaster _that_ would've been.

"I wasn't completely without sense you know," he huffed out a laugh.

"No, not completely. So what was it that made you first realize how you felt?" Now that they'd started Obi-Wan found himself hopelessly curious to know.

"I actually remember it perfectly- I was sneaking back into our quarters. Me and a few other Padawans had snuck out and gotten drunk on some terrible swill— horrible stuff, worst hangover I’ve ever had.” He shook his head as if to free himself of the memory.

“Anyway, I was feeling pretty clever, so sure I’d gotten one over on you. But of course as soon as I stepped through the door, there you were. Just sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea, perfectly calm. I knew before you said anything though, that I was in deep shit. I was right of course; you yelled, told me how disappointed you were, yelled some more. And that was it.”  
  
“What was it?” Obi-Wan asked, utterly confused, waiting for the rest of the story.   
  
“That’s when I knew I loved you.”  
  
“ _That’s_ when you knew you loved me? When you were half drunk out of your mind and I was yelling at you?” Of all the strange things Anakin had said that morning this, Obi-Wan decided, was by far the most bizarre.   
  
“You were just so…vibrant, golden. It wasn’t often back then that I got to see you as anything other than a perfectly composed Jedi. That was the first time I think I really remember seeing you as a person. Flawed I mean, human—I dunno. It made sense at the time,” Anakin laughed, unselfconscious at his inability to properly voice the sentiment.   
  
“And to think, I wasted all that time lecturing you and you weren’t even listening,” Obi-Wan shook his head in mock-disappointment.   
  
“Nope,” he agreed brightly. “Too busy mooning over you.” Anakin laid his head back down on Obi-Wan’s chest, smiling contentedly.   
  
  
“Anakin you did _not_ wake me up just so you could fall asleep on top of me! You’re heavy,” Obi-Wan complained, though he didn’t make any move to dislodge him.   
  
“Shh, sleeping,” Anakin mumbled, nuzzling his cheek against the soft fabric of his tunic. 

  
  
Between the overheated, squirming form under him and the almost giddy rush of affection he felt when Obi-Wan’s arms wrapped around his waist, Anakin did not, in fact, fall back asleep. The steady thrumming heartbeat underneath his ear did, however, lull him into the closest thing he ever found to a true meditative state.   
  
And as the sleep-warm lips of his former-and-always Master pressed a kiss into his hair, he wondered if this was what he’d always been meant for. Peace, simplicity— maybe even, he thought wildly, balance itself. 

 

 


End file.
